Everything Has Changed
by sirius.leigh.hadrian.black
Summary: Inspired by The Fault in our Stars, though this is not a crossover. 8th year finds Draco realising his feelings for The-Boy-Who-Lived, but everything has changed since he last saw Harry after the Battle of Hogwarts over a year ago. Please note: this story is SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Everything Has Changed

**Author:** .

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash (male/male)

**Paring(s):** Draco/Harry

**Summary:** Inspired by _The Fault in our Stars_, though this is not a crossover. 8th year finds Draco realising his feelings for The-Boy-Who-Lived, but everything has changed since he last saw Harry after the Battle of Hogwarts over a year ago.

**Disclaimer:** _Harry Potter_ © JK Rowling, _The Fault in our Stars_ © John Green

* * *

**Chapter One**

* * *

Draco Malfoy first saw Harry Potter for the first time in ages when he entered the Great Hall on September the 1st, 1999. He was sitting at his usual spot at the Gryffindor table, flanked by Granger and Weasley and the rest of his Gryffindor friends. But what Draco noticed first was the stand beside Harry, holding bags of different coloured fluids that where connected by tubes to Harry. The next thing he noticed was Harry himself, who, to say frankly, looked like shit. He was pale, with great bags under his eyes. His face with thin, cheek bones protruding more than normal. His uniform hung of his frame and he was constantly wiping his nose, which was seeming hard to do considering the plastic stuck up it. His normally sparrow-nest hair was lank and dull. But Harry's green eyes were still large and bright behind his ridiculous round frames as he took in the Hall, watching the door, waiting for the new first years to come spilling in and gasp at the enchanted ceiling and the floating candles and large hourglasses that were currently empty. Draco watched Harry from his place at the Slytherin table, one of only twenty-eight students from the house who returned that year. He then heard the rumours pass around - "_Potter has cancer_" everyone said in hushed tones. Cancer? A Muggle disease that only 1 in 90,000 magical people got diagnosed with? Draco supposed he could trust Harry to be that one. He caught Harry's eye across the Hall; Harry smiled brightly at him and saluted with two fingers. Draco smiled back. Harry inclined his head towards the great oak doors, and before Draco could raise an eyebrow in question, they were swung open by Hagrid, who led the trembling first years through the threshold and towards the Sorting Hat. Harry winked at him before turning his attention towards the front, where the Hat opened its rip-of-a-mouth and began its song. If anyone asked Draco what it had been about, he wouldn't of been able to answer. He was focused on Harry, who took in the song with rapt attention. He vaguely noticed everyone clapping, and he tore his eyes away from Harry's form to watch the nervous first years walk up and sit on the stool to have the Hat plonked on their head and fall over their eyes.

"Harris, Phillipa," Headmistress McGonagall called, and a small red-head walked up and sat on the stool.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat yelled. Draco zoned out for a while, coming back around when "McNair, Louise," was sorted into Ravenclaw followed by "Southeron, Taniesha," into Hufflepuff. Finally the Sorting was over, and the Headmistress took her place behind the stand.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," she said, smiling at the students who looked up at her with full attention. "As normal, a few notices before the feast, as I am sure you are all starving. The Forbidden Forest is, as always, still forbidden. Filch has a new list of banned items which have been tacked up on your common room notice boards. Quidditch team try-outs will be held in fourth week. And I believe Mr Potter has something he would like to say," McGonagall nodded towards Harry, who smiled at her and extracted himself from the table, making his way towards the front. The stand holding the bags was charmed to float behind him, but Harry still held onto it so that the tubes weren't taut. Every pair of eyes in the Hall followed him as he stood behind the stand that McGonagall just left. He took a deep breath.

"As I am sure you have heard, I have been diagnosed with cancer. 'Cancer?' some of you might of said. 'A Muggle disease that only one in ninety-thousand magical people get diagnosed with? Trust Potter to be that one.'" Harry winked in Draco's direction, who flushed. That was what he thought, almost down to a tee. "I have been diagnosed with chronic myeloid leukaemia, CML for short. It is more common in Muggle adults over the age of fifty, and is rare in children. CML affects blood and bone marrow. The bone marrow produces too many white cells, called _granulocytes._ These cellsgradually crowd the bone marrow, interfering with normal blood cell production. They also spill out of the bone marrow and circulate around the body in the bloodstream. Because they are not fully mature, they are unable to work properly to fight infections. Over time, a shortage of red cells and platelets can cause anaemia, bleeding and or bruising," Harry paused. "Does everyone understand what I've said so far?" Everyone nodded. "Great. Most people diagnosed with CML have a genetic abnormality in their blood cells called the Philadelphia chromosome. The Philadelphia-chromosome causes the production of an enzyme called _tyrosine kinase _which leads to CML. Why this genetic abnormality occurs in the first place remains unknown. But in my case it is not because of this chromosome. I have gained the joys of CML by overexposure to dangerous and dark magic, according to the Healers at St. Mungo's," Harry laughed, a hollow and sad thing that Draco wished he had never heard. "My symptoms of CML were persistent tiredness, unexplainable bleeding and bruising, slow healing, unintentional weight loss and dizziness. Hermione insisted on getting me checked out, and a good thing she did. I was in St. Mungo's for four months, being pumped full of various drugs and potions and not being able to do anything except watch the liquids flow through the tubes into my body. I threw up a lot, which was fun, and I had to be extremely careful not to bump myself in case I bruised or bleed. I had to stay in bed constantly, but I have read all my textbooks so many times that I am sure I will get better NEWT scores than any Ravenclaw or Hermione. I'm back in the chronic stage now, and I can play Quidditch," some of the Gryffindors moaned at this, the ones who thought they had a chance at becoming the new Seeker obviously, and even some of the other houses, who perhaps thought for a while they had a chance at the Cup this year, "sorry guys, and eat normally and not bruise so easily," Harry sighed. "I'm okay. And I should be for a while. Anyways, I think I needn't tell you anymore. Does everyone understand what I said? Any questions?" One nervous Hufflepuff raised their hand. Harry nodded in her direction.

"Why didn't they try chemotherapy?"

"Ah. The Healers weren't sure if chemo treatment would affect my magic or not, and decided it best to not risk it. I was going well enough on the drugs anyways," he shrugged. "Any other questions?" No one else moved. "Wonderful. Enjoy your meal then!" and with and extravagant wave of Harry's hands, the table filled with start-of-term splendour and everyone dug in. Harry slowly made his way back to his seat, dragging his drug-stand along with him. Granger shifted over a bit so that Harry could sit down easier. He sat, adjusted his numerous tubes and then shovelled various types of food onto his plate, filling his goblet with pumpkin juice and drinking heavily, before digging around in his robe pockets. He pulled something out, more tablets it seemed by the way he put them into his mouth before washing them down with another mouthful of juice. He shuddered, and then finally began his meal, ignoring the questioning eyes of students from all tables. With one last glance at The-Boy-Who-Now-Has-Cancer, Draco began his own meal, sitting alone at the practically empty Slytherin table.

* * *

The first day was over before Draco could even begin to ask his brain to start functioning properly. He had dragged himself down to breakfast as early as possible, to beat the morning rush of students trying to shovel food down as not to be late to class. He had taken his timetable; double Charms first, the joys; and made his was around to his classes in some sort of daze, not thinking when taking down notes or answering questions when the professors called upon him. The most interesting subject of the day was by far Transfiguration. After lunch, Draco picked up his satchel and made his way down the winding halls to McGonagall's room for the last lesson of the day. Draco was the only Slytherin there, seeing as it was an eighth year class. Harry and his friends sat at their usual desk, two from the front. Harry was playing with his quill, picking at the feather and then placing the fluff into Weasley's hair, who scowled at him before brushing it out. Harry just smiled and continued it, not even fazed when Granger told him to stop because otherwise he would ruin his nice quill (Draco had to agree, it was nice). After what seemed forever, McGonagall entered the room.

"Sorry I am late," she said as she hurried up to the front of the room. "I had to organise Quidditch games so that the new instructor could work with the teams. Anyway, this lesson we will be looking at animagus transformations – a very hard part of Transfiguration indeed." She nodded to herself and she picked up some parchment. "Can anyone tell me what an animagus is?" Several people raised their hands, not surprisingly Granger being the first. McGonagall looked around the room. "Potter, can you tell us?"

"Uh… Professor, can I go see Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asked as he lifted his other arm up. Several of the tubes in his left arm had come out, and blood trickled at a steady rate from the holes left by them, but the blood wasn't crimson like it should've been. The whole class watched, fascinated as first blue, than orange, than green, than white, than black ran out of Harry's arm, staining his blank parchment the various colours before running the normal red. McGonagall finally snapped out of her phase.

"Yes, most certainly Mr Potter. Take Mr Malfoy with you," and before Draco could respond, Harry had grabbed his shirt sleeve in his right hand and was running out the door, IV stand held in his bloody left hand. Draco had no choice but to run to keep up with Harry, who flew up the stairs almost as fast as Draco's Nimbus 2001.

"Potter," he managed to get out once they had reached the floor the Hospital Wing was on. "Are you alright? What happened?" Harry stopped and turned to face him. The blood had slowed but not stopped completely, and most of Harry's white shirt was now flecked with red.

"I dunno," he said, finally releasing Draco's sleeve from his tight grasp. "I put my hand up to answer McGonagall's question, and I suppose it jerked the tubes out of my arms. Hurt like a bitch too," he glanced down at his arm and poked it with his forefinger. More blood oozed out of one of the holes and dripped onto the stone floor.

"Don't do that!" Draco said before his brain could even process the thought of speaking. "Let's just get you to Pomfrey," he took Harry's wrist and led him down the hall to the doors that opened to the pristine whiteness that was Hogwarts Hospital Wing. "Do you want me to wait for you?" he asked when they reached the doors. Harry looked down at his feet before nodding slightly.

"Yes please. She's going to have to put the tubes back into the veins, and it's going to hurt, so talking to someone will distract me nicely."

"Okay," Draco said before pushing open the door and leading Harry in.

* * *

Draco had to admit he had been glad he had asked Harry if he had wanted him to stay while Pomfrey patched him back up. She had made him lie down on a bed in the far corner, not even giving Draco a second glance. He had sat himself down on the bed next to the one Harry was currently in, laughing to himself at the plaque above the bed that read _Harry Potter _in neat cursive. Harry obviously was one of Pomfrey's regulars. Once Harry was lying down, she had cleaned up his arm and poured something into the tube holes: "To stop infection," she had said before she pushed the tubes back into the veins. Harry had bitten his lip clean through by the time Madam Pomfrey was finished and had tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. "Sorry Harry," she said, wiping his lip clean before healing it. "I know it hurts. Take this," she handed him a vile of clear liquid, "and lie here for a while and rest." With that she bustled away, back to the store room to make sure she had enough of everything. Harry took a shuddering breath before turning to Draco, who still sat on the bed, hands clasped in his lap.

"Thank you for staying with me, even if you didn't talk to me," he said, smiling. "You just being here helped me."

It was then that Draco realised he was falling for Harry Potter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Everything Has Changed

**Author:** Sirius Leigh Hadrian Black

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash (male/male), mentions of child abuse

**Paring(s):** Draco/Harry

**Summary:** Inspired by _The Fault in our Stars_, though this is not a crossover. 8th year finds Draco realising his feelings for The-Boy-Who-Lived, but everything has changed since he last saw Harry after the Battle of Hogwarts over a year ago.

**Disclaimer:** _Harry Potter_ © JK Rowling, _The Fault in our Stars_ © John Green

* * *

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Harry watched as Draco's face split into a genuine smile and he couldn't help think that it had to be one of the first that was directed to him.

"My pleasure," he said, bowing forward at the waist awkwardly, seeing as he was still sitting down. Harry couldn't help but laugh, which caused Draco to laugh.

"Malfoy, that must be the first time in my seven years of knowing you that I have heard you laugh _kindly_, not that horrible sneering laugh that is normally reserved for me," Harry said as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Draco stopped laughing and looked at Harry, his head cocked slightly to the side.

"I suppose, Potter, that you are right," he said, the right corner of his mouth quirking up slightly.

"I much prefer this laugh, just so you know," Harry said, flushing. This had to be the longest civil conversation he had _ever _had with Draco. _And ever since you've realised your crush on him, this is a positive step! _the voice in his head chimed in. Harry rolled his eyes to himself. He supposed it was right though. When he had been admitted to St. Mungo's with nothing to do but stare at the boring ceiling, he had been mulling over his situation with Ginny and realised that 1) he was gay and therefore 2) not in love with Ginny like he had thought and 3) that the obsession he had with Draco in sixth year was far more than wanting to figure out what Voldemort had instructed him to do so 4) he had been in love with Draco for quite some time and 5) he was stupid for not realising sooner and 6) it was time to start acting upon this newly realised crush that he had had for Merlin knows how long. And Harry had to say that he thought he was doing a pretty good job so far. Harry watched as Draco smiled again.

"And I must say that it is much easier being nice to you Potter," he paused for a while and looked down. "Perhaps we could start again," he stood and took the few steps towards Harry and held out his hand. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Draco Malfoy."

"Harry Potter. It's wonderful to be of your acquaintance," he said, taking Draco's hand and shaking. Draco's smile grew wider.

"Tell me about yourself," he said, letting go of Harry's hand and sitting on the end of his bed. Harry's smile faltered somewhat.

"I was raised by my aunt and uncle after Voldemort killed my parents," Harry said. "Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had a son, Dudley, and always told me I was a freak. They made me live in the cupboard under the stairs and sleep on a creaky cot. I had to cook and clean for them, and in return was yelled at and hardly ever fed. I got all of Dudley's old clothes, and because he was so much larger than me, they swam on me. At school I was everyone's punching bag. I was relatively smart – I got good grades and tried hard to please my aunt and uncle, but because I did better than Dudley I had to go back to pretending to be stupid," Harry paused. "My aunt hated my hair – she could never make it look nice on those very rare occasions that she decided I could come with them somewhere, which was normally when I had too – so she cut it of once. By that night, it had grown back to its usual length. That's when the bashing started," Harry stopped and put his face in his hands. Draco stopped breathing. Dumbledore had made Harry live the first eleven years of his life with these horrible Muggles that bashed him because he was _magical_?

"I'll kill them," Draco growled. Harry looked up and smiled at him.

"They're already dead. After I turned seventeen, I could finally leave forever. I told them that Voldemort knew where they were. They refused to listen to me and decided to stay at Privet Drive – "No crackpot wizard will kill me!" Uncle Vernon had said. How wrong he was. Voldemort came that night and killed all three of them," Harry smiled sadly. "Though we didn't get along well, I could never wish that upon them."

"You're such a Gryffindor, Harry," was all that Draco could say.

"Almost Slytherin," Harry replied, his smile now cocky. "The Hat wanted to put me into Slytherin, but after what I had heard on the train ride, I begged for any other house. But anyway," he said, waving his hand around. "Tell me a little about you before I continue. I need some time to censor my story," he paused again. "You're the only person I've ever told that my uncle bashed me," he said in a near whisper. He looked up from under his fringe.

"I am honoured that you trust me this much Harry, but what's brought this on?" Draco said. Harry blinked owlishly and blushed.

"Just tell me your story," he said hurriedly. Draco nodded.

"I was born on June the fifth, 1980," he began.

"Prat," Harry said. "Not from the very beginning." Draco chuckled.

"Alright, alright, but at least you know my birthday now. Anyway, Mother and Father practically left me to be raised by the Nurse, so I never really saw much of them. They hired one of the best magical tutors in Great Britain to teach me; basic magic, history, art, music, riding – both horse and broom – spelling and maths, how to write proper formal letters and such, how to act in public... How to be a Malfoy, basically, which meant being stuck up and proper. I had everything I could ever want, which including being taking to riding events. I won several classes on my old gelding, Lumen – Latin for star, that is – until father decided I outgrew him and sold him without my consent. It was then that I became even more snobbish and rash, I believe. I began to demand things and do things without permission. Father decided that he had done the right thing in selling Lumen – he had now made me a proper Malfoy. I continued to be rude and snobbish and everything I was until a little while ago because it pleased my father, and that was my one aim in life. Then Voldemort started to make hi return. Sixth year it was decided that I was to take the Dark Mark," Draco pulled his sleeve up harshly to show Harry the Mark. It was faded now, but still stood out from Draco's pale skin. Harry reached forward and traced it with the gentle fingers before leaning forward and kissing Draco's wrist.

"It doesn't change my opinion of you," he said, smiling as he sat back down. Draco then realised that Harry had fallen for him too. He gaped at Harry, whose face flashed with a million emotions before settling on fear. "Oh dear, I've ruined everything now!" he made to stand, obviously to run from the Hospital Wing, but Draco grabbed his robe.

"No Harry, you haven't," he said, causing Harry to turn around. Draco took a deep breath – this was his chance! "I like you too," he said in a rush, blushing and looking down but not releasing his hold of Harry's robe. He heard Harry's sharp intake of breath before Harry's face appeared in front of his. He was biting his lip again, and Draco couldn't help think that it was extremely hot.

"If you like me, than kiss me," Harry said quietly after what seemed an age. Draco's mind practically shut down at that, but he found himself closing the space between him and Harry anyway. The kiss was chaste, but Draco couldn't help but marvel at the softness of Harry's lips. He pulled away gently and opened his eyes. Harry was looking at him with a soft type of expression on his face.

"Go out with me?" he asked. Draco could only nod. Now he really was glad that he had decided to stay with Harry. Madam Pomfrey decided that now was an excellent time to check on her cancerous patient.

"How are you feeling Mr Potter? I think you'll be right to take some more blood now," she said, bustling out of her storage room with a bag full of red liquid. "Blood type AB+, right?" she asked, checking the label on the bed. Harry sat himself back on the bed.

"Certainly am, ma'am," he said, and held out his arm so that Pomfrey could connect the tube from the bag into one sticking out of Harry's arm. Harry turned to Draco. "This tube had been put into my arm so that blood can be given without much hassle – they don't have to insert a new tube every time I need some more," he said as he watched Pomfrey connect the tubing. She then tapped the bag with her wand and the blood started to flow at a steady rate into his arm. "It connects to a main vein that will take it back to my heart to be oxygenated."

"You stay here and rest for the rest of the day Potter. We have to make sure your body doesn't reject the new blood," she then turned to Draco. "You can stay as well, Malfoy. Nothing over PG, alright?" She then turned on her heel and walked back to her office.

"You have to finish your story," Harry said, snuggling into Draco's side as he sat down beside Harry. Draco began where he finished, and both he and Harry were bloody grateful she hadn't said anything more.

* * *

When Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room after Madam Pomfrey had finally released him from the perfectly organised and clean Hospital Room, he was swamped by an overly worried Hermione and Ron.

"Harry! Is everything alright now? What did Pomfrey do? Why didn't Malfoy come back? Did he hurt you?" Hermione's questions only ceased when Harry held up a hand and laughed.

"Geez, calm down 'Mione. I'm perfectly fine, I just pulled some of the drips out of my arm. Pomfrey just put them back in, gave me some more blood and told me to rest the rest of the day so she could make sure my body didn't reject the new blood. Draco didn't come back because I asked him to stay with me," Harry stopped and blushed. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"And…" she prompted. "What happened? Did he hurt you?" Harry shook his head.

"We're going out," he whispered, so quietly that if Hermione wasn't expecting an answer she wouldn't of heard it.

"You and Malfoy are dating," she said slowly. It wasn't a question. Harry just nodded. Hermione's face slowly changed from her worried face to her 'my-best-friend-has-a-new-girlfriend (or in this case, boyfriend)-everyone!' face. Ron looked somewhat sick, but still embraced Harry all the same. During Harry's time at St. Mungo's, Harry had told them, with the help of his various drugs, that he had liked Draco since fourth year and planned that this year he would act upon it. It had taken Ron a while to accept the idea, and he was still having trouble, but what mattered the most to Harry was that he wouldn't desert Harry because of it – not because he was gay, not because he was no longer dating his sister and would end up marrying her like everyone had planned, not because he liked Draco Malfoy (of all people). Harry had actually cried when Ron had said that, although he may not like Malfoy, he would accept and support Harry if they ever got together. And now Ron planned to stay true to his promise, and as he hugged Harry, he knew that Harry's view of him had increased tenfold.

"I'm happy for you mate," Ron said as he pulled away, trying not to entangle himself in any of the various tubes.

"How did it happen?" Hermione asked. "Tell us everything!" And so Harry recounted what had happened during his day in the Hospital Wing that was sure to be boring as hell had Draco not been there. And for the first time since he had been diagnosed with CML, Harry had a reason to be thankful that he had.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Everything Has Changed

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash (male/male)

**Paring(s):** Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione, Dean/Seamus

**Summary:** Inspired by _The Fault in our Stars_, though this is not a crossover. 8th year finds Draco realising his feelings for The-Boy-Who-Lived, but everything has changed since he last saw Harry after the Battle of Hogwarts over a year ago.

**Disclaimer:** _Harry Potter_ © JK Rowling, _The Fault in our Stars_ © John Green

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

The first thing that Harry does the next morning is post the letter he constructed Sirius last night before he fell into bed. His new owl, a small tawny named Florence, after a Muggle World War Two nurse Florence Nightingale. Florence held her leg out still while Harry tied the letter to it with a piece of leather.

"Deliver this to Sirius, at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London," he said, and with one last affectionate nip, Florence spread her wings and flew off through the open dormitory window. His letter told Sirius about his kiss with Draco and what lead up to it. That afternoon he planned to write to Carleesha Curtis as well, and tell her how this cancer had led to one good thing. Carleesha was a witch, aged sixteen, who lived in Australia and attended the Scots College for Magical Children – the only wizarding school in all of Australia. Carleesha had been diagnosed with cancer when she was only twelve and had been battling since. Harry had started writing to her when he was first diagnosed – St. Mungo's had given them each other's names and addresses and a small amount of information and told them to write to each other. So they had. Harry greatly enjoyed hearing about what Australia was like, the difference in culture, what spells they were taught, how Quidditch was favourite pastime and how horses were allowed at SCMC. Carleesha had been riding since she was eight and was one of the top riders. SCMC competed in the interschool events in the region with other Muggle schools. Magic wasn't needed for riding – it was all about you as a person, "although magic does make preparation easier!" Carleesha had written once. She had sent a photo of her horse, a bay Thoroughbred mare, standing 16hh with a star and 3 socks. Carleesha was competing at pre-novice level – around 1.05m jump height. She was aiming for the Olympics – magical or Muggle. But her cancer had relapsed and now her Healers were in a race against time to save her. Harry hoped that his letter might bring some cheer to her day. He picked up her latest letter – her neat, modern writing was spilled across three pages telling him of operations and drugs and vast periods were she couldn't remember anything. She told him of the dreams she had that she would never get to achieve, of the books she would never get to read, that she would never live to have a family and husband a home of her own. She had also sent a book – _To Kill a Mockingbird_ it was titled, by Lee Harper. It was a Muggle book, but Harry was halfway through it for the sixth time and thought it was so _relevant _that it didn't matter. Hermione had seen him reading it in the hospital one day and had demanded that she be allowed to borrow it; Harry had promised her that she could once he finished it (again). Putting the letter back down, he moved to his trunk and pulled out a clean set of robes and proceeded to get ready for the day – double potions with the Slytherins was first. Harry was nervous and excited. He would get to see Draco again, who had filled his dreams last night and was the cause of an embarrassing wake up, but what if he regretted kissing him yesterday? What if he decided that Harry was too much of a grenade that could blow up at any time? Harry stuffed his books into his bag and made his was downstairs, careful to keep the tubes slack. He was met by Hermione and Ron, who were holding hands in front of the hot embers of the fire.

"Morning," Harry said when he reached them.

"Morning," Hermione replied, smiling and standing up, pulling Ron with her. "Ready to head down to breakfast?"

"Sure am," Harry said as he stomach growled simultaneously with Ron's. They laughed as they made their way to the portrait hole. Today might turn out to be alright.

* * *

Draco watched the Great Hall doorway for any sign of either Harry or his friends. He wanted to talk to Harry, to make sure that yesterday was real and the he did want him. After their kiss yesterday, Draco had wandered back to the dungeons in a daze, running into one wall and bumping into several third-years, who had frowned at him and kept going with their noses in the air. By the time Draco reached his (private) room, he needed a cold shower. Thoughts of what Harry may ask him to do if their relationship progressed took over his mind, and if anyone had talked to him, he wouldn't be able to form a coherent sentence. He had no doubt that he wanted to make this official, to tell everyone in Hogwarts to keep away from Harry because he was his and his only. He would be proud to call Harry his boyfriend. But what if Harry didn't want him? Before his thoughts could run away, Harry and his friends, Granger and Weasley, walked in, smiling and laughing. Harry looked towards the Slytherin table, spotted Draco and smiled a 100-watt smile. Draco nearly fainted. He watched as Harry said something to his friends, who smiled slyly and shoved him in the direction of the Slytherin table before making their way over to the Gryffindor table, which was mostly full of people trying to shove as much as possible down their throats and still talk to their neighbour, which was gross and undignified. Harry walked over to Draco quickly and plopped himself down next to him, taking some toast from the rack and spreading it with marmalade.

"Morning," he said, before he shoved just a little under half the piece of toast in his mouth.

"Erg. Moring," Draco replied, frowning at Harry, who just smiled and swallowed.

"So… still wanna be my boyfriend?" Harry asked eloquently after a pause. Draco raised an eyebrow. Harry smiled shyly.

"Yes," Draco said once Harry looked awkward enough. Harry's face spilt into another 100-watt smile, causing Draco to smile just a brightly.

"Thank Merlin. I though yesterday might of just been pity," Harry said, shoving in the rest of his toast.

"It was all true. Sit with me in Potions?" Draco replied, reaching for a plate of sausages. Harry nodded, adjusting some of the tubing, before turning back to Draco.

"I only need these for three more weeks," he said happily, pouring pumpkin juice into his goblet. "Then I only need to go see Pomfrey once a week to get them. I'll finally be able to get back on a broom!" Harry's eyes lit up at the exclamation; it was obvious how much he had despised the time he was stuck in St. Mungo's, not able to leave the bed for days on end because his body was so weak. Draco vaguely remembered reading about cancer in magical people once when he was seven. The reason it was so rare was because a person's magical core normally helped in eliminating sickness – the magic helped purge the body of viruses, though when you were younger and your magic was still building strength it wasn't as effective. Draco had only been really sick once, when he was twelve. Before he could keep thinking about how it would suck to have cancer, the owls swooped in with the mail – several for him, it seemed.

* * *

Over at the Gryffindor table, Hermione kept an ear on what her friends were saying while she read her Transfiguration chapter. Seeing as this was the NEWTs year, Transfiguration was not going to be easy – they were looking at human transfiguring and Animagi. Just as she began to lose herself in the book, something caught her eye… er, eye.

"They're resorting the eighth-years tonight," Dean Thomas said from his place next to his boyfriend, Seamus Finnigan. "I'm hoping I stay in Gryffindor, though being sorting into a different house would be a good experience." Hermione lifted her head.

"Resorting? That's never happened before in the history of Hogwarts! Are you sure?"

"Yep. Overheard McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick to bring the Sorting Hat down tonight before dinner," Dean said.

"Wonder if I'll move," Ron said, spraying Neville, who was across from him, with toast. There was a murmur from the other eighth-years.

"I wouldn't mind Ravenclaw," Hermione said. She looked over to the Ravenclaw table, where almost everyone had their head buried in a book of some sort.

"Yeah, you'll fit right in," said Neville, and the other laughed.

"But what would me and Harry do without you?" Ron whined, frowning. "Not to mention I wouldn't see my girlfriend constantly."

"Harry and I. And we'd still see each other Ron. Besides, I might not end up moving," Hermione replied, smiling. Ron rolled his eyes at her correction, before he looked over to the Slytherin table.

"Wonder if Harry will stay in Gryffindor," he said questioningly. "Remember how the Hat wanted to put him in Slytherin first year?"

"It what!?" several of the Gryffindors exclaimed.

"Harry is a Gryffindor through and through," said Seamus, nodding to himself as if to cement the fact.

"I don't know… Some of those plans he had were very Slytherin-esque," Hermione said.

"Well, we'll just have to wait until tonight to find out!" Lavender said as the owls flew in with the mail.


End file.
